


Wednesday Morning

by IreneADonovan



Series: Nights and Days [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Erik Gets Romantic, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Waxes Poetic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, Sequel to One Tuesday Night, post-XMA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Sequel to "One Tuesday Night." Morning Sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought "One Tuesday Night" was a one-shot. Should have known better. :-)

Charles awoke to find pale dawn light seeping through his curtains and one of Erik's arms slung possessively across his chest. He might have thought it a dream, save that dreams lacked substance and the arm was both heavy and warm.  


Charles turned his head to watch Erik, who lay on his side, head pillowed on his other arm. His hair was sleep-rumpled, and his expression more at peace than Charles had ever seen it.  


He covered Erik's arm with his own, drinking in the quiescent strength in those lean muscles.  


One grey-blue eye cracked open, and a soft smile warmed Erik's face. “Charles,” he murmured. “So it wasn't a dream.”  


“It was no dream, love.”  


“Good. Otherwise I'd have to spend the rest of my life in bed.” His smile grew wider and wickeder. “Although 'sleeping in' this morning does have possibilities.”  


It did indeed. “I suppose I could play hookey for once in my life.”  


Erik chuckled. “The headmaster playing hookey. Priceless, Charles.”  


“Just let me tell Hank.” Charles reached out, found Hank in the kitchen, making coffee. _Would you mind covering for me this morning?_  


A spike of alarm. _Is something wrong?  
_

_No, Hank, nothing's wrong. Something's finally right._  


_Okay. Just the morning?_  


_Yes. I'll explain later._ Charles withdrew from Hank's insatiable curiosity, smiled at Erik. “It's done. The morning is ours.”  


Erik cupped Charles' jaw, leaned over for a kiss. “Hold that thought five minutes.” He rose and headed for the bathroom.  


Charles lifted his head, enjoying the view. Then he sighed, realizing he'd better take his turn in the bathroom, knowing he'd need more than five minutes.  


By the time Erik re-emerged, Charles was in his chair, arranging his feet on the footrests. “I'll need in there as well,” he said. “Why don't you see if you can snag us some pastries from the kitchen before the kids get to them.”  


Erik nodded and ducked back into the bathroom, returning moments later with his somewhat-rumpled polo.  


**~xXx~**  


Erik padded barefoot through the halls, knowing he was grinning like a fool, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone. He did pass Hank, but the younger man was, as always, lost in thought and barely even glanced Erik's direction.  


Unfortunately for Erik, Mystique was in the kitchen, and she was both much more perceptive and much harder to distract. She looked him over, head to toe, and said, “Same clothes as yesterday, freshly-fucked grin on your face. You've been shagging my brother.”  


“Raven!” Despite his indignation, he kept his voice low, and he glanced around to make sure no one was coming.  


She just laughed, golden eyes flashing. “Oh, come on, Erik. It's no secret the two of you have been pining for each other for twenty years.”  


“I do not pine.”  


“Keep telling yourself that.”  


Erik stalked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. He'd have preferred this conversation with a stiff drink – he'd have preferred not to have it at all – but coffee would have to do.  


“Seriously, Erik, I'm happy for you, for the both of you, but--” her expression hardened then “--if you ever hurt him again, I will end you.”  


Erik took a sip of coffee. “Noted. But I'm not going to hurt him.”  


“Are you sure? Then don't leave this time.” Mystique poured a coffee for herself, snagged a pastry, took a bite as she headed for the door. Clearly she wasn't waiting for an answer.  


Was he sure? Erik pondered this as he wrapped up an assortment of pastries and took a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator.  


Charles was waiting for him, gloriously naked, reclining against the headboard. “Took you long enough,” he said without heat.  


“I ran into your sister in the kitchen.”  


Charles' eyes widened in comprehension. “And she knew.”  


Erik nodded. “She read me like an open book.”  


“You're _smiling_ , darling, and not like a shark on the attack.”  


“Am I really that bad?” He knew he was, though. He set the juice and pastries on the table Charles used as a reading desk.  


“Do you mind that she knows?”  


Erik considered, shook his head. “We couldn't have kept it a secret forever.”  


“No, we couldn't,” Charles agreed, “especially since I probably look at least as much like a lovesick pup as you do.”  


Erik let his smile broaden. “I was actually thinking you look absolutely delicious.”  


Charles licked those sinfully-red lips. “And I think you're wearing far too many clothes.”  


Erik peeled out of those clothes in what must have been record time.  


“Better.”  


Erik returned to the bed, slid in beside Charles.  


“Best.” Charles extended his hand to him.  


Erik took it and kissed the backs of the knuckles. “I love your hands.” They were small but strong, elegant but by no means dainty, lightly callused, the backs dusted with freckles. “They're beautiful, like the rest of you.”  


“I'm not beautiful, Erik. I'm a bald paraplegic on the high side of forty.”  


“You're beautiful,” Erik insisted, “and I'm going to show you why.” He rose to his knees on the bed, straddled Charles' thighs, kissed the other man lightly.  


He touched his love's temples. “First, there's your mind. Strong enough to bend the world to your will should you so choose, but wise enough not to.”  


He traced Charles' brows. “Those blue eyes that see everything, even into the depths of a bitter man's soul.”  


Ears. “You hear the children's voices, alone and afraid, and you never turn away.”  


Lips. “That smile should be registered as a deadly weapon.”  


Throat. “The voice that argues with such passion, teaches with such clarity, soothes a wounded soul.”  


Shoulders. “That bear the weight of the world.”  


“And that brings me to the most beautiful part of you.” Erik bent to kiss the center of Charles' chest. “Your heart, which is generous enough to still love me in spite of all I have done.”  


Charles said nothing for a long moment, then, “You really see me like that?”  


“I do.”  


Charles' hands cupped Erik's jaw, drew him upward until their lips met. I really do love you, you know.  


I know.  


Charles' tongue teased Erik's lips apart, darted in to twine with Erik's own. Erik could taste the mint of Charles' toothpaste, as well as the spicy earthiness that was simply Charles.  


They broke the kiss but clung together. Desire had darkened Charles' eyes to cobalt, and his breathing had grown more rapid.  


“Tell me what you want,” Erik said, “tell me what will make you happy,”  


Charles looked a little uncertain. “IthinkI'dlikeyouinsideme,” he blurted.  


Erik was stunned. That was something neither of them had ever done. “Are you sure.”  


“I want to try. I don't know if it'll work for us, don't know how much I'll be able to feel, but I want to try.”  


Erik had only a hazy idea of what was involved.  


“I'll talk you through it.”  


“I didn't think you'd ever--”  


“I haven't, but I'm a _very_ thorough researcher.” Charles grinned broadly. “Besides, I teach sex ed.”  


Erik chuckled. “”Okay, teach. What do we do?”  


Teach? Charles shook his head in mock-indignation. “There's a bottle of massage oil in the bathroom cabinet.”  


Erik rose and went to fetch the oil. By the time he returned, Charles had rolled over onto his stomach. The man really did have a beautiful body – all fair, freckled skin over lean muscle. Erik had a moment's pause, but only a moment's, when he saw the pale twist of scar tissue low on Charles' back.  


He sat beside Charles' legs, drew a finger over the knotted scar.  


“Erik.” His name on Charles' lips was a clear warning. “Let it go.”  


“I'm trying,” he said mildly. “it's just I never saw it before.” He covered the scar with his palm. “Such a small thing, yet it forever altered both of our lives.”  


“We survived, we moved on, and we found our way back to each other,” Charles said. “That's what's important.”  


“Truly.” He bent to kiss Charles shoulder. “So how the heck do we do this?”  


“Oil up your hand, and be generous. Then start trying to work a finger inside me. Take it slow, keep adding oil. You want to get the muscles to relax and open up.”  


Okay. He could do this.  


He poured oil onto his hand until it was dripping, hesitantly pressed his index finger to Charles' hole and into the tight ring of muscle. It went in easier than he expected, the muscles enveloping his finger in tight heat. He worked his finger back and forth, in and out. “Am I doing okay? Can you feel this?”  


“It's a little distant, but yes, I--” Charles gasped and went silent, shivering.  


Erik froze. “Did I hurt you?”  


Charles drew in a ragged breath. “I think you just found my prostate.”  


Erik tried it again, was rewarded with a strangled, wordless cry as Charles' hands gripped handfuls of the sheets.  


“Try two fingers,” Charles said, breathless.  


Erik did, then eventually added a third. “I think you're as ready as I can make you.”  


Charles nodded. “Do it.”  


Erik poured more oil into his hand, rubbed it over his hard and aching cock, lined himself up, slowly pushed his way inside Charles until he was sheathed balls-deep inside the man he loved.  


He remained still for a minute, drinking in the sensation, reveling in the sight of Charles lying beneath him, his fair skin flushed and sheened with sweat, then he began to move, gently at first, then with increasing abandon. He drove deep, found Charles prostate, nailed it again and again, delighted as Charles shuddered and moaned and convulsed in pleasure.  


His own orgasm followed quickly, ecstasy searing along his nerves until he could do nothing afterward but collapse beside Charles in a blissful haze, feeling like this relationship might just be the death of him yet.  


If so, he'd die a happy man.


End file.
